Blindsided
by percychased
Summary: They both don't want to give up. / or, Oliver maybe should have said something earlier. She should trust him, right? Angst.


**Blindsided**

* * *

_The heart has reasons that reason does not understand._

* * *

"You've been out," she says slowly. She scowls at him, like she knows exactly where he's been and what he's doing, and she doesn't like it one bit.

He knows she is wrong. She is irrational and quick to make decisions, but this time, she is dead wrong. It would be funny if she wasn't so angry.

"Where have you been?" she asks, and she sounds infuriated, but he knows what she wants - a confession. _I've been out, I've been lying to you, you've been right all along, Katie._

"I've been out," he says, which isn't a lie. It's not true, though, in the way she thinks it is.

"Out with the team again?" she asks, but doesn't give him the time to answer. He knows he should tell her, do it right now, but he wants to know that she trusts him, just one bit. She's been through a lot.

Maybe not. Maybe she'll keep burning, lighting herself on fire, until there's nothing left but ashes, slipping through his fingers. And he will be the rain that washes her away, a storm cloud arriving on her step to darken her door.

That's what it's been like, for the last few weeks, and he knows it's his fault.

"Yeah," he says. Because he's Oliver Wood, and has he ever really been that great at emotions? She's told him before that's no excuse, but he isn't her, she's free and uninhibited and she _knows_ how to say things. He isn't like that.

"Out with Angelina," she interrupts, "and Godric, Oliver, you don't even hide it! You know, if a man is trying to hide something, he's usually quick about hiding the evidence, right? You come in here, you're a mess, you're exhausted. Why don't you tell me what you're doing?"

"I can tell you I'm not doing that," he says quickly, and he's surprised at himself; maybe he's upset in her lack of trust, but maybe he's upset with himself, for not making himself a good boyfriend. Looking back on it, it is a bit daft - maybe if he was Katie, he'd think the same thing about himself. "Angelina's married, Katie. To George. What in the name of Merlin would I be doing with her? It's not what you think - honestly. Force feed me Veritaserum, and I'll tell you exactly where I've been and what I've been doing and you might be quite surprised."

He can tell she's thinking it over. "You know we don't have Veritaserum. This has happened before, Oliver, and it just got worse and worse until I couldn't take it anymore, and I love you, y'know. A lot. And I know that might not ever change but I just want to know, because maybe we could fix this, right? We could. This isn't done yet, this isn't hopeless or useless. I know we could. I get angry a lot and I regret it later, but you know, you know that I've been through this before and it's hard to trust you, yeah? Not because you're you, but because of what happened before, and I think you know that."

"And saying you're with Angie is barmy, I know. I've known her since I was eleven, and she'd never do anything like that, I just... needed to find an excuse to get angry. Because if I wasn't going to be angry, I'd be giving up. And I don't want to give up."

He was not expecting that. He was expecting the defeat of yesterday or the rant of the day before, and he knows now that she is not angry, just sad, and it's his fault, he thinks. All his fault. It has been weeks since they have spoken, and he doesn't like the silence either.

The box is burning a hole in his pocket, and his hand in his robe pocket plays with the box, running his thumb over the smooth edges. The reason he's been out.

The reason he was visting her father last night, asking permission

The reason he'd asked Angelina to help him pick one out.

The reason he'd needed to go to Muggle London, because there's much more selection there.

She's still standing in front of him, in her pink pajamas.

He doesn't want to give up, either.

He takes the box out of his pocket.

* * *

a/n - cp: first aid, week one, storm, ashes & regret. stretch your bounderies comp, 1. useless, 2. permission & the quote at the top.


End file.
